


togetherness

by cherryspliced



Category: Little Nightmares (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gradual aging, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Game, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, Spoilers, they’re just kids and I want them to be happy ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryspliced/pseuds/cherryspliced
Summary: Mono and Six, life after torment, the burden of magic, the solace of each other, and so on and so forth.
Relationships: Mono/Six (Little Nightmares)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 374





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Assuming that LN2 is a prequel, takes place after the original LN in which Six uses her new powers to free Mono from the tower. Both characters at this point in time are 11, which may or may not be canonically correct idk

_ Sept. 13th, XX21 _

He has never known how to be angry with people. Her especially. Still, he has learned something from his time in the tower. It hasn’t been terribly long since then, Mono knows that. But for him, whose body is now forever altered in a way that he towers a foot or 2 over her... To her, magic is something that must be bent and broken through sheer will. But it’s a painful memory to him, a medium that stretches him like taffy and shrivels him down again to repeat the cycle. He’s never been good at learning, either. 

Six cranes her neck to look at him. Then raindrops peek over the brim of her hood and she ducks. “We should get away from here.” He doesn’t see a reason for the rush. She has torn his prison down brick over fleshy brick, and thus has no need to fear the broadcast’s influence over him anymore. This time, it is he who follows, lagging behind in token resistance. For several long minutes he wonders why this feels so strange, and he realizes 2 things. Their hands aren’t connected. And her shoulders are hunched. 

This rain isn’t like any of the ones preceding. Under his coat, which wetly clings to him like a heavy skin, his own is like ice. And Six is trembling violently, the sight so inexplicably sad it feels like a physical blow. And so he ducks under the hood of a disposal bin, waiting for her to notice rather than call out. She does, and they sit there for a very long time. Once or twice, she inhales as if to say something but doesn’t. And then she closes her eyes. Mono peers past her hood. Even in the shadows, it’s easy—so  _ painfully _ easy—to spot the dark circles beneath her eyes, the lines that no child should have if only this world were a little kinder. How long had it been, he wonders, since she’d rested like this? His heart constricts, as if tied by knots, and he quickly finds the only way to loosen them is to wrap his arms around her, his legs molding to accommodate hers. 

Come morning, she’s awake before him and makes no effort to move away. There are no words needed to know all is forgiven.

  
  
  


_ Sept. 15th, XX21 _   
  


Ultimately, they decide to return to where they started. The hunter’s shack is far,  _ far _ from perfect, but it’s also far from the terrors of society with an equal amount of ready-at-hand traps to boot. Anyone will know they are not welcome. 

“Except you.” Six says pointedly.

“But I had you waiting for me, didn’t I?” And that sufficiently shuts her up. 

The days are dominated by cleaning. The rancid food remains are chucked out back, the dust swept up and surfaces mopped with rags. When the sun is a red orb sinking into the lake, they open the windows and lie side by side on the floorboards, blissfully aware that the rotten smell is slowly but surely seeping out of the house.  _Their house._ “This isn’t so bad. Right, Six?” She doesn’t respond immediately, which is expected of her. But he turns his head and follows her gaze to the door held together by a few shards. The glint of the music box shines through the gaps. He grasps her hand, notably clammy. “We’ll board it up tomorrow. Ok?” 

“Mm.” It’s just about as helpful a response as any, but her fingers tighten reflexively on his. 

That night, they gather the taxidermied corpses into a fire pit. The hunter’s included. Only touches of his flesh remain, tears and gnawing marks on his exposed bones to signify a hungry predator. Lurking nearby, perhaps? Mono doesn’t much care. Six the Terrible is beside him, and who would dare challenge _her?_ Still...

“I don’t wanna touch it.” Mono complains, and Six merely clicks her tongue. Flecks of glittery black emanate off of her shoulders like smoke as the corpse lifts into the air, orange drips of decomposition coming off its clothes and plopping it onto the pile with a nauseating _sploosh_ sound. It’s the first Mono has ever seen of her powers. “That is so cool.” She tosses him her lighter and walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Oct. 1st, XX21  _

He wonders if it’s something that has developed over the time they’ve been apart or something he simply didn’t take notice of to begin with. 

As of now, it would have required a lack of eyes to not notice her sporadic tendency to hold him at bay, in times when he reached out to touch her and she jumped out of arms reach with no explanation. He was hurt by it at first, but he understood, and thus never pushed. Now, he mulls this over with more seriousness as he shifts through the mystery contents of the attic. A marvelous thing, he discovers, about his newfound height: he no longer has to scale shelves in order to retrieve the things that catch his interest. 

... Today, she has made him aware of her desire to patrol the forest grounds alone. By now he knows better than to fuss, but not all things, he sees now, are black and white. And he  _ does _ see. More and more frequently, Six’s gaze wandering to the door. Her stomach growling often, yet she picks at whatever food they do manage to find. The way she jerks in her sleep. All this, Mono thinks about as he flips through shelves of abnormally large discs. Then in the dark corner he spots a suitcase-looking thing with a bent antenna inside. It makes him feel queasy at first, with its resemblance to a TV, but the longer he looks at it memories almost forgotten begin to sieve through his brain. The name for the contraptionresurfaces, and he feels stupid. 

When she returns, he presents it to her with all the grandeur of a magic show, with a loud  _ Ta-da!  _ and smiling foolishly. He is rewarded with a bored expression.

“... What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“It’s a record player. You ever seen one? This is better than the music box, trust me.” He holds up a hand that says  _ wait just a second _ as he inserts the disc tucked under his arm. For a few moments it scratches and statics, and he has the alarming thought that all of his test runs with it prior to arrival had broken it somehow. Then, a soft melody fills the room. He turns to her reaction expectantly, and is still gobsmacked by the way her face softens in surprise, her eyes begin to twinkle. Late into the night, they listen to it over and over. 

The next day she is humming it to herself. 

  
  


_ Oct. 20th, XX21 _

Her eyes are unnaturally bright as the creature hits the ground with a loud  _ thud _ . All he can do is stare at it—he’s never seen a grizzly bear this close before. Not a live one, anyway. 

“I—,” he stumbles down the porch. “H-hi. What do you got there?” 

“Dinner.” She states as if that’s normal.  _ What? How? Why?  _ Yet he’s at a loss for words. She seems to read this, her hands coming up in lively gestures that he’s never seen before. “I know we haven’t had much to eat lately, but this should last us a while... it’s nice and fat, and it’s female too, so it should taste pretty good...” the longer she rambles, the more color in her cheeks, and Mono’s next remark makes her humiliation complete. 

“You got this for  _ me? _ ” Her face blossoms into deep red and her mouth opens and closed like a shocked fish. Nothing she can say to defend herself. Mono can’t bring himself to tease her regardless. Instead, the most beautiful smile spreads across his face. “It looks great! Thank you.” She looks away, pursed mouth muttering something as she kicks the dirt and strides off. Mono settles onto the front steps for a few minutes, the idea that he’s becoming something of a househusband briefly flitting across his mind before he shuts it out. He heaves a sigh as he stands again, retreating inside to fetch a knife. This ought to take a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When writing the first date I was listening to the Gatsby version of “Young & Beautiful” by Lana del Ray so if you have trouble visualizing music that’s probably what they were listening to. Or something by Frank Sinatra because he’s pretty good too 👍🏻


	3. Chapter 3

_ Oct 31st, XX21  _

“... and then everyone died. The end. Whaddya think? Pretty scary, right?” If he were not lying this close, it would have been impossible to read her. But whatever moonlight filters through the windowpanes manages to find its way to her face. He admires the way her slender hands look in comparison to his rough ones, the ever present lines under her lids indicating displeasure. She rolls her eyes, and Mono understands. There is little thrill in scary stories when you’ve already died in every way possible. Still, Mono tries. For her or himself, he can’t be sure. “All right, then  _you_ come up with a better one.” She gives a careless sigh and stares at the ceiling. Minutes slip by, and he’s nearly asleep when her voice cuts the air. 

“Once, there was a peasant couple who had a daughter. The couple became so poor they were tricked by their queen into giving her the daughter in exchange for luxury and comfort. But the queen was secretly an evil witch who ate children to keep herself young and beautiful. Her castle was surrounded by an enchanted forest that bent to her will, so the only way the children could escape was to kill the queen. And so that’s exactly what they set out to do, led by the girl. But the castle was filled with all manner of monsters and magical traps that sapped the girl of her strength. In the end, she became so desperate that she sacrificed all her friends in order to reach the witch. But by then, she realized she didn’t care that she got rid of them. She began to enjoy killing the queen’s monsters, destroying her puzzles. 

“She became so strong in this way that by the time she challenged the queen, she realized she had become her, and by then it was too late.” 

Mono waits in case she wants to say anymore, and she doesn’t. He swallows. 

“Are you talking about us? Or...” He trails off. 

“I’m just talking about a prisoner in general.”And then, seconds later, she says in a quieter voice, “I don’t know what I am.” 

“What do you mean?”

“There are pieces I remember before the hunter caught me. Just a few. Then there you were, and we went off doing what we did, so it didn’t really bother me until—,” his wrist begins to shake with phantom pains. “So there was this lady.” She says in a somewhat brighter tone. “I thought that maybe going there... I might find something. Maybe I’d discover why I am the way I am. Why I do the things I do.” 

“You’re not a bad person.” Mono protests. “You came back for me. And we’re together now, and we’re safe. Isn’t that enough?” 

“Say if I were the girl in the story, could you still say that? If I had left you there—even if just a little longer—could you then?” She’s suddenly staring at him, and he’s startled by how black her eyes are.

“I’m still here with you.” She watches him for a long time, inscrutable. He is the first to tear his gaze away, ostensibly to doze. Instead he thinks of her bashing porcelain skulls with nothing but her own fury, warming herself by the smell of smoldering flesh. She would break the fingers of every mannequin and call it vengeance if she could. Or maybe it’s him who constantly confuses cruelty with sorrow. 

It’s easy to feign sleep when he hears her whisper, “But you’ll hate me eventually.” 

  
  


_Nov. 5th, XX21_

There is something in the attic. 

If it’s rats, they must be coming in brainwaves, Mono reasons as he turns off the record player—something, it’s worth mentioning, he never turned on in the first place. 

It nearly always happened when the both of them were outside or asleep. The morning would greet a hungry Mono with his anticipated fare half-eaten. Similar events followed, items disappearing and reappearing in places they shouldn’t, and so on. Six herself remained unconcerned with the whole ordeal, but then, she was always off doing whatever it was she was doing these days, and so never could have anticipated  _ this _ . A foolish sense of pride filled Mono, as if to say,  _ he was right! _ About what? Well, he didn’t know yet, but he was going to find out.  _ That _ he was sure enough of. 

Searching the attic proves mostly fruitless, save for the tiny alcove he inspects in a closer manner than before. A burned-out candle collection, a toy car, and swaths of cloth, but not much else. He isn’t deterred, though, for he wholeheartedly believes if he can earn the trust of Six of all people, he can surely find a way to lure this mysterious creature out. And so he makes a point of leaving bits of meat on a plate before bed every night. For weeks the meal remains untouched. One day before he leaves, he sings the song that had been playing when he first caught the creature in the act. The next day, a single piece is gone. 

It continues like that. Eventually 2, then 4 and when it begins to snow, the whole plate is licked clean. 

“What kind of music do you like?” Mono asks loudly. The room thrums in silence. He waves the disc lightly in the air. “I know you like this song... are there any others?” He pauses again, then slides another off the shelf and sets it on the floor. “How about this? This is the one I like the most. When I’m gone, leave one near the RP. I’ll play it for you. Ok?” 

The next time he returns, he’s met with a large cone sitting atop the record player, tubby legs dangling. And so he stops climbing the ladder, merely letting his chin rest on the edge of the opening. In the world outside fairytales, fairies are made up of large hats, just as monsters are made of bunched fat and stretched limbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like I should clarify that this is supposed to be a kind of slow-burn love. Mono’s just currently being his regular affectionate self while Six kinda just goes along with it.   
> Also that Mono and Six are still the same age, it’s only Mono’s height that has been altered. People probably already knew that but I just wanted to make sure lol


	4. Chapter 4

_ Dec. 10th, XX21  _

Winter. It has never been Mono’s favorite season. Even less so now, as he lifts his hands to his face, calloused skin crinkling and sore. Still, he knows Six must have it worse. Six, with her shorts now worn nearly transparent. Six, with her bare feet making constant tracks in the snow. Six, who never utters a word of complaint even as she continues to cough and shudder with each passing day. The thought alone is enough impetus for him to continue his task. Hours later he cuts the final thread with his teeth and sits back on the heels of his hands to admire his handiwork. Spread neatly on the floor is a clumsily-made pair of slacks, some socks and a pair of boots. Ideally, it would have been her Christmas present, but she has never cared for such things. And he finds himself too excited to wait anyways. He scoops them up with both arms and makes his way outside. 

There is no need to call out for her when he spots her footprints. They have always taken time to plan their routine carefully. As mighty as Six may be, there is no harm in being cautious in a world like theirs. Yet this time there is a diversion in the trail, as the track veers messily— _ suddenly _ —to the right. Trepidation fills him further when he sees there are other prints, ones of an animal. 

Then there is a scream. 

A terrible, inhuman scream. His body acts before his mind, forgoing the surprise and runs towards the sound. Then there is Six, glittery black torrenting around her. There is the animal, too, a deer with sharp spiraling horns and a front leg flailing loosely at an unnatural angle. At the joint, bone breaks through skin, blood spurting onto snow. In spite of this, the creature thrashes, trying frantically to stand. Blind in its fear, dangerous. Still Six remains close, skimming her red little hands over her forearms. A wide smile causes the bloody cracks on her lips to reopen. The excitement radiates off of her as clearly as her magic, compacting and exploding. Then another leg breaks, as easily as a twig. She laughs as another high-pitched shriek fills the air. 

And Mono watches. 

Until the laughing stops, and too late he realizes it’s because she has noticed his presence. Turning towards him, there is new color in her cheeks. But it’s the hollow blackness in her eyes that causes the rest of the world to drown in white. 

_ Dec. 20th, XX21  _

To turn the lights off before you go to bed, to button a coat before you go outside. He suspects there is a kind of order to these things, but is too afraid to wander into the details. Happiness came to him in the shape of darkness and a yellow raincoat, after all. 

There is a  _ tap, tap, tap _ at his arm and he looks down. He forces a smile. 

“Sorry. Just thinking.” Seven merely quirks his head. In an effort to avoid Six, Mono found himself retreating to the company of his new friend in the attic more and more. And in the short time they have spent together, the creature has proven himself to be just as intelligent as Mono, despite his inability to speak. At some point Mono remembers to ask if he has a name, and the creature takes a stubbed piece of chalk to the floorboards. He writes, _ “Seven.” _ Mono finds that funny. 

He cannot look her in the eye, as if it’s him who’s in the wrong. But one day, she manages to catch him and tell him she will leave if he doesn’t want her around anymore. Without thinking, he grabs her hand roughly and forces her to hold the bruised part of his wrist. She bites her lips. The next day, she is wearing the things he made for her. 

The venison in the fridge still goes rotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Six eat the Runaway Kid? Yah, she did. Did I still include Seven in this fic foregoing all logic? Yah, I did.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dec. 25th, XX21_

He sort of knew, all along. He’d be stupid otherwise, to not have noticed the signs. But when they are together, there are no cruel smiles. And when the shadows leave his field of vision, he can only consider the things he wants to ask her in retrospect. He wishes he had something greater than words. Today, he approaches her and simply holds out his hands. She looks him up and down, seemingly unsure, but even now trusts him enough to place hers in his. The world bends and goes static. 

When it comes down to breath again, Mono sees with a start just how easy it is for him to tell the present from a memory. Though there is significantly less snow, it is so much colder in the city. He gives her minutes to adjust, to look bemused, as he has done for her so many times, before leading her off by the hand. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You’ll see.” He didn’t know, either. They climb through broken windows like urchins, finding all sorts of lovely things they were too scared and too rushed and too tired to take notice of before. Before Six can say anything, Mono rushes at a shelf-full of food preserves. He forgets himself briefly, brandishing some cranberry jelly in one hand, cornbread mix in the other. “Look at this! I didn’t even think this stuff was still around!” It’s only when Six hesitantly returns the smile that he remembers he’s supposed to be cross with her, turning away just as quickly. He picks up a can of Italian wedding soup, something he knows he adores but can’t recall the taste of. 

Bodies litter the streets in the way they fell at the enrapture of the transmission, but it’s only when they find one still living, wandering with its warped head twisting and twitching, does Mono know exactly what he wants. He looks at Six, then at the viewer. They’ve been in enough situations where they didn’t have to speak to know what was expected of them. And despite the uncertainty in her steps, she warms into the role of villain so easily it could be considered horrifying. Twisted screams, limbs torn off without needing to touch, the snapping of a neck. All this Mono observes from the sidelines. Never looking away. Never approving or disapproving, merely observing. When she’s finished, a wave flows through the air from the creature to her. It falls to the ground, and she sighs blissfully. 

They walk in silence, until she finally demands, “What the hell was that back there?” 

“What?” 

“Why’d you make me do that?” 

“I didn’t  _ make _ you do anything.” 

“But you wanted me to. What were you hoping to prove?” 

“I just wanted to see why you are the way you are. Why you do the things you do.”

“ _ If I could be anything other than what I am, I would be— _ ,”

“I’m not asking you to change who you are!” 

“You hate me.” It sounds more fact than accusation, the way she says it. 

“ _ No! _ ” He yells. She flinches. An image of her twisted into angles cuts into him, and he feels sorry. “No, I don’t hate you, I don’t...” He could never. He comes forward and gingerly hugs her. “I’m just... disappointed, that’s all. Disappointed.” He rubs the stiffness from her back until she feels limp in his arms. Into his shoulder, she begins to mumble. She tells him the heavy cost of her powers, what she had to do in order to attain them, how normal food can no longer satisfy her in the way souls do. She tries to keep it to only animals now, she tries _so_ hard... one day, if she’s not careful, she might devour him, too. None of it makes him pull away. There is a wetness in her voice that makes him suspect tears. 

“I could have left you to die, you know. I would’ve.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Heroes are always portrayed as above brutality, and only the villains eat gnomes and rats and people. At least Six made no pretenses. 

_Dec. 26th, XX21_

Christmas comes a day late this year. Mono, still relieved for making up with Six, is not at all bothered by this. They spend it together under the bear fur, huddled up against the oven to warm themselves while the cornbread bakes. They pass the time playing thumb wars and rock-paper-scissors as if they’re normal children, in a normal world. 

“Hey! You’re not supposed to go over the line!” Six smirks and yanks his arm at an awkward angle. “Ow!” He pulls himself free and lunges at her, hands wriggling themselves under her armpits. She shrieks with laughter and comes up fighting. For several minutes they tousle, until Mono is out of breath. “Ok-Ha!- _ Ok!  _ Stop, that hurts.” The timer dings and he jumps up, loathe to leave the warmth of the blanket but knowing it won’t fill his stomach. He dons a pair of mittens before making Six shuffle aside so he can pull the pan out of the oven. It’s pure agony, smelling it after so long only to have to wait even longer. 

Minutes pass and Mono’s stomach growls. “Do you reckon it’s cooled down enough?” Six shrugs. He pokes the edge of the pan. Still hot, but his finger’s unscathed, and that’s good enough for him. He scoops a bit out with his fingers and puts it in his mouth, breathing carefully through the bite to cool it down. Scalding, but delicious. So delicious he almost starts to cry. He hadn’t realized until now just how sick he was of meat and berries. Along with that thought comes all the things that usually come with Christmastime: the boiled milk and cookies, the sausage rolls, the still-warm bread and butter. He pulls open the can of cranberry jelly and spoons it onto bits of bread at a time, wallowing in the pleasure of it all. Six merely watches, seemingly fascinated, until he notices. 

“So, can you still eat normal food or no?” 

“Yeah, I can, but I don’t really need it anymore.” He still fetches a spoon for her. “No thanks. You can have it.” 

“Just try.” He presses, so she gives in. She takes a tiny bite and makes a sort of surprised face. “How is it?”

“... Pretty good.” He still eats most of it, though she steals a few spoonfuls. “Oh, hey. Wait here a second, would you?” When she comes back, what she has in her hands makes his heart leap. “I found it lying around yesterday. I wasn’t sure you’d like it...” she hands it to him, and he runs reverent fingers over the floppy velvet edge of the hat. It has that funny feather plume that the ones from the movies have. 

“Are you joking?” Mono finally gets out. “I love it! Thank you!” A ghost of a smile flits across her face as he puts it on. It’s sort of ill-fitting, big enough that it falls over his eyes, but he’ll have to grow into it eventually, anyways. He makes a big show of himself, puffing out his chest, furrowing his brow and puckering his lips. “How do I look?” She cackles and punches his ribs lightly. 

“So... Merry Christmas?” She says, a little awkwardly when she sits next to him again. A grin tugs the corner of his mouth as he scootches closer. 

“Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to hate cornbread and cranberry jelly as a kid but I had it again recently and... what??? It’s so good?  
> Last chapter was short and kind of grisly so I decided to make this one the opposite. Hope it got you in your *good* feels cuz I sure did when writing it 😊


	6. Chapter 6

_ Feb. 28th, XX22 _

He’d be lying if he’d held off their meeting because of what Six had confided in him. Even if she felt sorry, she’d still always come to him with the blood scrubbed carefully from her raincoat. But betrayal is only simple on paper, where black is merely black and the rest is all white. And he knows she is trying, for _him_ she is trying. So he feels it is safe enough now for him to lead her into the attic. 

“What’s all this about?” There is amusement in her voice, and he smiles. 

“There’s... someone I want you to meet. But you have to close your eyes. And— _ and _ you have to promise you won’t freak out.” Lines furrow her brow at that. “C’mon, just go with it?” So she does. He blows on her fluttering lids. She sputters. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Sorry, just checking.” He backs away and proceeds to hurry, whispering for Seven to come out. Strangely, he doesn’t, at least not until Mono calls out for him a 4th time, and he catches an uneasy tip of a hat. Under the shelf, he ducks. “Don’t worry, she won’t hurt you.” He wonders vaguely if gnomes can sense that kind of danger. Yet it seems Seven’s trust in him balances out that premonition, as he offers his hand to him and he takes it. He smells of old paper. “Ok, you can open your eyes now. This is Seven, he’s—,” She does, and the world seems to bend. At least, that is what is reflected in her eyes, where the sun is devoid and stars too dim to matter. “Six?” She catches the wall with her back hand, jaw shaking—with fury or terror, Mono’s unsure. He’s never seen her like this. “What’s wrong with you? _Six?_ ” Seven jerks his tiny hand from his at the same time he reaches out, and she reels from him, as if his touching her might burn. She bolts down the ladder and before Mono can follow, he hears her stumble outside. Bitter confusion overtakes him. 

It’s too late to wish the sun back, anyways. 

_ March 15th, XX22 _

Jealousy is the same green as freshly budding grass, he has learned. Twice before, he has broached the subject of the gnome upstairs( _“Six, he’s not as bad as you think. He’s actually quite nice and I think you’d like him too if you just—,”_ ), and once she has hissed at him—not unlike an animal—and another time she has shaken his hand off and stomped away. It is clear that her guilt has begun to wear off, and the result often ends in him wishing he could throttle her. The only way to get through to her, he has inadvertently discovered, is again through Seven. He plays with him frequently, more often than Six these days. He could easily chuck it up to the fact that Seven is uncomplicated, a sweet little thing who only voices innocent concerns when he feels he must. Therein lay the difference between the 2. Six would protest against anything and everything she didn’t like. Seven would not. As soon as Mono realizes that, he feels guilty. 

The 2 have come up with a game, not unlike checkers in which they’ve created a board out of hide, and used little things like coins and wax lumps as their pieces. It’s all really in good fun, so he’s more than a little surprised when he catches the glint of yellow near the trap door. He nearly says, _“Oh, Six!”_ but quickly thinks better of it. If she feels comfortable enough to watch, he won’t interrupt her. And so they resume their play, Seven’s movements more jerky than before. He doesn’t trust her, as she doesn’t trust him. Mono understands, no matter how much he wishes it were otherwise. 

She goes from watching from the ladder to sitting against the wall, one knee tucked in and the other spread out. She glares hard enough that Mono feels she might tear him apart with her magic. Intent on not allowing her to spoil the mood, he continues the game with even more vigor, half because he hopes she will see how fun it is, and half because he secretly _does_ want her to be jealous. 

It goes unbeknownst to him, the way the sun ripens red, its light oozing through the window, the shadows that stretch and cloud her vision. Though she has always been the type to try and change things, their red is supposed to belong on the outside. While she digs her nails into her knees to stop her trembling, Mono declares they need some candles. On the floorboards, the outline of a boy taller than he goes to fetch them. 

He is awoken by the sound of muffled crying. For a moment he’s unsure whether it is that or the cold that sends painful chills up his arms. Their nightmares have swallowed greater things. But if those nightmares could escape... he listens for a long time, and when the noise makes way to uneasy snores, he turns to press his face against her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop back at it again with that sad shit—
> 
> Wonder if Six and Seven can settle their differences or just make it worse? And poor Mono, he just wants everyone getting along.


	7. Chapter 7

_ March 28th, XX22 _

The best time of the year is now, when the snow is almost all melted and replaced by rain. He allows his feet to squish through the cold mud, grass buds shooting between his toes. The air is moist and cool, in temperature wherein the summer you would have found it freezing, but not so now. Now, it smells like fresh earth. And now that strolling is a luxury they can afford, Mono finds himself doing it more and more often. He loves that wet scent, the feel of perspiration slick on his back despite the crispness of the air. It makes his ears cold and ruffles his hair, and he relishes it. He relishes the time in which all he has to worry about is the measure of his breathing and where he’s stepping. 

“What’re you doing?” He jumps and nearly slips on the wet earth. Six, it seems like she’s been tailing him for a bit, and he simply shrugs. 

“Just walking.” 

“If I were someone else, I could’ve attacked you.” 

“Hey, I’m not  _ totally _ helpless, y’know.” Her eyes stray to his hatchet. It’s the very same he used to free her, now strapped to his belt in a way that causes his hip to sag. He likes to believe he’s gotten stronger swinging it, but Six has never been good at lying. Or encouragement, for that matter. He grumbles as he walks away. Several seconds later he realizes she is still with him. It’s a vaguely familiar feeling, her trailing after him, only that this time there is no destination. Six has never been the one to waste effort, and thus is probably just meaning to guard him. He takes her hand nonetheless, irritated but fond. 

Together they amble along the forest, taking the time to observe the many cages that have fallen from atop the branches. The sight no longer troubles him, and he’s sure that Six feels the same. There’s silence, but no tension, no desire for the other to make conversation. Perhaps it’s because that is just how comfortable they now feel in each other’s presence. 

Time slips. Idly, Mono picks up a pinecone and tosses it. Somehow he still expects the ground to snap where it lands. Six kicks over an anthill, and at some point they discover a puddle full of worms. She grins and picks up a stick so she can mess around with them, as children tend to do. He crinkles his nose in disgust as she cackles. 

“Gross. Did you know they poop dirt?” 

“Nope, but did you know they still live if you cut them in half?” A crease folds his brow. Before he can warn her not to, she demonstrates by jabbing the tip of her new weapon into the middle of a long one. 

“Ew!” But it continues to struggle, and when it’s totally severed, the 2 individual bits wriggle off in opposite directions. “That’s so gross!” Her eyes begin to glitter, and Mono recognizes that look. He’s already running when she plucks one up with her bare hands and begins to chase him with it. 

It was... a nice day. 

_ April 15th, XX22 _

She still watches when Seven is around. Every stare, every movement is reminiscent of that of a cat, though Mono is queasily unsure whether it’s the kind waiting to pounce, or one that is biding its time. Thus, he makes it his business to supervise. Sometimes she doesn’t even know he’s there, whether he’s been fiddling with something in the back of the room and she enters, simply unaware of his presence. From his unseen spot he watches her watch  _ him _ . Seven fidgets, but knows what she doesn’t, and as such there’s no reason to run from her. He doesn’t miss the strange pensiveness in her face, or the abruptness of her exit as if confounded by something. Sometimes, Mono wonders if they are apart of a story in which all the roles are twisted; where the princess kills the monsters , while the hero stands by and observes—he includes himself, he’s not sure how to stop her if he had to. 

Always he offers her a spot in their game, and always she refuses. But there are times when she brings herself to scoot a little closer to the light, and there Mono can see her gaze following the pieces as if they were mice. This... seems to have its number of cons, too. Mono tends to lose these games, and even though he usually doesn’t mind, it’s different in front of Six. The strangeness of acknowledging the fact does not escape him. 

One night, after watching the gnome cross his tubby little arms in victory for the umpteenth time, Six’s eyes begin to flicker. Mono catches them this time. He follows them, realizes once again that for all of her savagery, she’s infinitely clever, and there’s a kind of mischievousness that pulls at the corner of her mouth when he moves his pieces as she furtively directs. He also realizes, during this, that Seven is competitive, and he demands that there be another match. Mono’s unsure how much time has passed when Seven realizes that he’s cheating. He chitters high and agitated tones at Six, who in turn, merely sticks her tongue out. The impishness of the action surprises Mono, somehow. 

“C’mon, cut us some slack. You’re always the one winning.” 

“Only cuz you’re so dumb.” Six teases. 

“Maybe you guys should face off, then, if you’re so clever. Might be pretty fun.” To watch, maybe, although he keeps that to himself. Six’s expression seems to cloud. 

“Later, maybe.”  _Later_ . Her stomach growls and, like a ghost she rises from her seat to leave.  _Later_ . Well, it was better than a _“_ _ No thanks” _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who took a walk for the first time in forever and decided to write about it?
> 
> Also why does it feel like my chapters are getting shorter and shorter? I mean in general I don’t tend to write long chapters but yknow?
> 
> *speaking of which, now that we’ve finished all the important groundwork of the story, there’s probably gonna be larger gaps between the dates from here on out.


	8. Chapter 8

_ May 20th, XX22 _

Is it the lack of danger prevalent that makes the water so appealing? Mono’s unsure, but it feels as if summer is coming early, with long days filled with melted red and orange and purple. By the edge of the lake he crouches, washing the blood from his arms. It’s not as if he’s ungrateful, but he wishes that Six would take the liberties of skinning their kills every once in a while. 

Memories tend to itch at him here. Of enormous blasts making his ears bleed, dust flying, the buoying of driftwood and the all-too sudden calm that came with it. But it’s easier to forget those kinds of things when there are insects singing in your ears. Instinctively, he swats at his neck, dripping with sweat. 

Yellow seeps into his vision, he glances up. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“What does it look like?” She grumbles as she slips the jacket over her head. The action is distinctly tomboyish, revealing a stained tank top and shorts underneath. There is a kind of hypnosis to the play of tendons, lean muscle under ghostly skin flushed from the heat. “I’m cooking here.” 

“You don’t know what’s in that water.” 

“Then why are we drinking it all the time?” She cannonballs past him, the sound so likewise he has to resist the urge to duck for cover. A delightful spray of moisture hits his face. 

“You know what I mean.” She merely rolls her eyes, and sometimes Mono has to wonder if she’s perhaps a little _too_ confident in her abilities. Either way, he’s never been one to resist peer pressure. His sigh is tinged with mock annoyance as he pulls his shirt off. When he spots Six’s demeaningly playful grin, he throws himself into the blue, fully intent on wiping it off. It’s a shock, like ice being injected into his veins until he sees light, and he realizes it’s the way up. He emerges sputtering, realizing it’s because Six is splashing him. He returns the gesture. “Hey, let’s play—,” he almost says chicken fight, but discards the idea. Least case scenario, she’d probably cripple him. “Marco Polo?” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s kinda like a mix of hide-and-seek and tag, except your eyes have to be closed. You can try to figure out where I am if you shout  _ Marco! _ Cuz I’ll have to respond with  _ Polo _ .” She didn’t need to say it sounded dumb for him to see she thought so. “... Want me to go first?” She shakes her head. For good measure he spins her around a few times before paddling away. 

“... Marco?” 

“Polo!” 

“Marco!”

“Polo!” ... and so on. Her hearing is much more acute than he gave her credit for, but he’s no slouch at hiding(not that he could afford to be, remember?). But he recalls the fact that she tends to have a short attention span, and he wants to make it fun for her. 

“Marco!” 

“Marco!” 

“Huh?” Her head wags as if glancing around. On instinct Mono ducks briefly under the water. 

“No looking!”

“You said Marco.” 

“No, I said Polo.” 

“Nu-uh.” 

“Yu-huh.” 

“Whatever.” She swims in his direction, he dodges. “Marco?” 

“Ollo?” She jerks at the sound. He giggles. 

“... Are you screwing with me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re gonna be in trouble when I catch you.” 

“Sure,  _ if _ you ever catch me, you  _ snail _ .” The way her lips tighten tells Mono he’s just dug himself into a hole. Still, he can’t really bring himself to stop, even when her paddles become lunges. When she closes in on him he splashes wildly at her, shrieking when her hands find their way under his arms. 

“ _ You’re _ the snail,  _ you—! _ ” She’s always been the type to play rough. But there’s a certain kind of ferocity in her movements that the water seems to smear everything like paint. The feel of her fingers pressing against his ribs is not one he can easily describe. Akin to TV shock, maybe... no, that’s not it. All too late he realizes his laughter has softened into nervous breaths. “Hey, I’m just playing around!” She is frowning. Did she think he thought she was trying to drown him? The force around him is her, and her maroon-black eyes are all he knows. 

“I’m just playing.” She says, softer. He nods, and her grip on him loosens. 

“Yeah, I know... I was just...” he swallows, face burning as he realizes how close hers is. “Nevermind.” 

“... Right.” There’s a weird moment of buoying against the waves they’ve made. “Why’s it called Marco Polo, anyway?” 

“I dunno.” 

“... I’m hungry.” 

“Me too.” 

_ Jun. 15th, XX22  _

“—et up!  _ Get up! _ ” How  _ did _ he manage to stay asleep this whole time? There are tears leaking out of his eyes before he opens them. The world feels inverted, black where there should be light and light where there should be dark. Six’s hands reek of ash. Far too late than he should have, Mono catapults out of bed. “ _ They’re burning us out! _ ” 

“ _ What? _ ” He runs to look through the window. He wonders, in a surreal flash, if it has come to yank them back into the cycle they weren’t meant to break.  _ It _ , as in that thing that cocooned Mono with the intention of metamorphosing him into something monstrous. Instead he catches a glimpse of glass faces splashed with blood. The world seems to static. It made sense, though, he knew, the fall of the tower dominoeing whatever kind of bizarre order left. Atop the mast of the bullies’ crude raft, the Teacher’s severed head is perched. 

“Let’s go!” She’s practically dragging him out of the room, and the hallway is even more suffocating. It’s only when they reach the bottom of the stairs that Mono realizes. 

“ _ Seven! _ ” He begins to retreat, the unrelenting grip on his wrist tightening. He jerks to look back at her, a grim expression that tells him exactly what she is thinking. It doesn’t stymie his rising anger. “ _ He’s still up there! _ ” He tears free and bolts back up the stairs, ignoring Six’s frantic yelling. The detour finds his little friend huddled in the corner beneath his hat. Smoke rising rapidly through the floorboards, he furiously scrubs the sweat off his upper lip. “C’mon!” He grabs Seven before he can protest and stuffs him into his pocket. Not very dignified, but that’s hardly a concern right now. As they descend, footsteps echo their way upwards. Far too many for just one pair of legs to make, and Mono shudders. They all play the part of the monster, broken and angry and ready to kill. Mono includes himself, he isn’t ready to die yet. His hand finds its way to his belt, unclipping the hatchet. 

There are 6 of them, carrying torches and knives and rocks to pelt him with. Or they just lunge at him with the same reckless abandonment he can easily recognize. Another thing, he realizes, is that he _has_ gotten stronger. He no longer has to pull back so far in order to bash heads. He misses one, however, which has been smartly angling him as he fights. He is tackled from the back, cold fingers digging into his neck, knocking his head savagely into the boards. He’s afraid. For a blind moment he’s desperately afraid, so he’s confused when he hears a cry that is not his own and sharp pieces of porcelain explode over his hair.

“ _ Get your goddamn ass up now _ ,” Six roars. Smoke clogging his lungs, the  _ heat _ , the mere motion of lifting his head is dizzying now, so that when he lunges at her, there’s only a vague idea of where he wants to be. 

When the worlds statics back to form, they’re lying in the trees, far enough to slip away but close enough to see the flames engulf their home. The clear outlines of children prance around excitedly as if it were a casual bonfire, screeching that  _ Godawful _ song. In his hand, Six’s begins to shake. He understands, he really does, but still he forces himself to pull her away from the scene.

And they run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (May 20th Mono: 12 years old and a troll)
> 
> Well that sure escalated quickly. But things were getting a little too cozy so did you really expect me to NOT trash it?  
> The hunter’s cabin layout is kinda weird. Like I thought that the lake was right outside his house but then I replayed the game and no there’s like an enormous stretch of puzzles before you actually get there but whatever we winged it. 
> 
> *Also important things to consider: I decided to up Mono and Six’s ages a year so that in the beginning of the fic, they’re actually 11. Just cuz we’re already 8 chapters in and until now, nothing specifically “romantic” has happened and we’re trying to crack on. 
> 
> So I’m gonna go back into earlier chapters and adjust the descriptions so don’t get confused when you see them. AND I’m gonna fix the typo in my tags (thanks Pidgeapodge!)


End file.
